Therapy Session
by Volurin
Summary: "I believe that whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you stronger. You got that, doll face?"
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**** Hi there! I decided to write a Joker story since I love the guy so damn much; even more so since Heath Ledger. This is a short insight into the story to see if its worth continuing. Let me know what you guys think! If anyone reviews. Q_Q**

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"Did you hear? The Joker escaped Arkham!"

"He's taken off somewhere out of the city to avoid detection."

"The Joker is planning to destroy the entire city!"

Dozens and dozens of rumours and speculations began circulating around Gotham; after three years of being thrown into the dreaded Arkham Asylum by Batman, the Joker had managed to escape by almost destroying the entire building. Even while being incarcerated for that length of time, the Clown Prince had still been capable of keeping his supporters close at hand.

Picking up her tea, Sophie took a gingerly sip of the steaming liquid, sighing. Ever since she was sixteen, she'd worshipped the ground he walked on. People thought he was insane; Sophie believed he was a visionary for the future. A bit of chaos mixed into the derelict city might actually liven it up a little. Crime hadn't even gone down in those three years; the Joker had been doing some good despite killing people and blowing up buildings.

The phone rang and her heart leapt in her throat. Almost tripping over herself, she flung her body at the landline, catching it on the last ring.

"Hello?" She huffed.

"Miss Havens?"

"Speaking."

"Hello, Miss Havens. My name is Jefferson Loxton director of the Arkham Asylum."

Sophie almost dropped the phone. This was it. This was what she had been waiting for. For the last four years she'd been studying to be a psychiatrist at university; examining case files of the most heard of criminals in Arkham. Getting into the mind of the Joker would have been a dream come true. Newly graduated, she'd presented herself in person at the Asylum a week ago, asking after a position. It appeared she had succeeded.

"I'm ringing personally to get to know you a little before we sign you on."

"Oh." The elation deflated immediately. The job position had required extensive training and experience. Sophie had only ever helped family and close friends; and worked for six months in a small cubicle with people who had minor problems, like claustrophobia and a fear of swimming. So she'd taken the dive and put in her resume for the open position at Arkham.

"Tell me about yourself, Miss Havens."

"Well, I...umm," she curled the phone line around her fingers anxiously and gulped. "I studied at GC University; just finished a couple of months ago-"

"And how much experience have you had with patients?" Jefferson inquired, and she could hear him shuffling papers around.

"Friends, family and six months in a small mental health building."

"And did you ever meet a patient with severe neurological problems?"

"Well, no I-"

"Have you done profiling before?"

Sophie's face lit up like lights on Christmas. Creating a profile based on what someone told the psychiatrist during a session was something she was very good at. It was always easier to analyse a person once everything had been bundled onto paper.

"Yes! I have done extensive profiling on the Joker, with limited information, as you know but I can send you recommendations of how experienced I am if you like."

A pen scribbled on the other end. "Not necessary, Miss Havens. Are you alone?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Arkham Asylum is in a state of disarray at the moment, as you can imagine. I was wondering whether you would mind if my associate and I held the interview in your home."

An interview in her own flat? It was unorthodox but she wasn't going to give up on something she'd been set on since a teenager. "Of course! I'll give you my address."

Twenty minutes later found Sophie in her small but quaint living room, with Director Jefferson and to her immense surprise, Commissioner Gordon. If she wasn't clumsy before, she certainly was now after several attempts at filling the kettle only to spill water all over the place. Gordon had taken over with a polite smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder. Now with them both seated in front of her, she was stumped and had no idea what to say.

"I'm sorry to intrude on you like this, Miss Havens," Gordon started, a gentle smile on his face.

Sophie smiled back politely, heart thudding in her ribcage. "That's all right, and please call me Sophie, Commissioner."

"Only if you call me Gordon," he quipped with a wink and she shyly ducked her head with a nod before he continued, his expression becoming serious. "There aren't many psychiatrists aside from Crane who have been even remotely interested in the Joker's inner mentality." Sophie couldn't help but wince at the mention of Jonathan Crane, now hiding in the dark alcoves of Gotham. "Batman, as you know, has disappeared." His face fell and Sophie wondered if the rumours around Gordon and the Dark Knight were true.

Jefferson took over, leaning on his thighs as he linked his fingers together. "Miss Havens, we've had people drawn up profiling for the Joker. But it's always warped; these psychiatrists hate him, they aren't interested in analysing him and because of that the profile never makes any sense. After you put the resume in, we contacted the University to find out why you were so interested in the position."

Gordon continued. "You have a, should I say, curiosity of the Joker?"

Suddenly cautious, Sophie retreated inward, her voice coming low and soft. "Yes...am I in trouble?"

"No, no, Sophie. You're not." The Commissioner soothed and the tension eased from her body but then built up again as he went on. "We are looking for a psychiatrist to seek him out; get inside and figure out his next move." Gordon stood and began pacing, gesturing with his hands as Sophie's face began losing colour gradually. "Putting an older more experienced person on would be a failure from the beginning. The Joker can sniff out a rat miles away. So I was hoping you would help me, Sophie. Help save Gotham from him."

Brows furrowing in confusion, Sophie readjusted her skirt nervously before looking at the two men. "What exactly are you asking of me?"

Jefferson glanced at Gordon and the Commissioner rubbed his eyes tiredly before coming to kneel down before her. Sophie could see the pain the movement caused him and began to flutter her hands to help him up before he stopped her with a hand on her forearm. "Sophie, I'm asking you to aid us in recapturing the Joker."

"And...how could a twenty-two year old psychiatrist do that?"

"By joining his motley crew."

And just like that, Sophie fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**** O-k! So I here ya go, the first real installment. The chapters will get longer as I go.**

**Got no comments to make on reviews since there were none. ;-;**

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Giddy, with butterflies dancing in her belly, Sophie meandered down the sidewalk of a busy intersection, hardly paying attention to the kafuffle of the traffic or the voices circulating around her. To think the Police Commissioner had asked her to spy on the Joker, the crazy psychopathic killer left her in a breathless mess.

Sure, the idea sounded exhilarating in her head but actually meeting him in person? Lying to him? Morals were something the young woman valued above all else, and even backstabbing the ultimate backstabber was not something she was overly comfortable with. There wasn't even a chance of finding the Joker, let alone trying to join his side.

Gordon had assured her that an officer would always be tailing her, even if she couldn't see them. It made her more nervous, considering she didn't have much choice in the matter. Jefferson had made it quite clear after going over the details that it was not so much of a request; more of an order. Sophie thought back to the conversation, a frown darkening her features.

"Miss Havens, even if you change your mind, you have to do this. If you don't you can say goodbye to any permanent psychiatry work in the future," he'd said with a blank face that clearly said he meant it. Gordon hadn't been informed of that part, and wasn't amused but decided the matter couldn't be helped.

"Find the Joker. If I were the Joker...where would I be?" Sophie tapped her lip thoughtfully.

For little more than a week, this had been the routine. Put her day to day activities in order then try and find the Joker.

The Joker wasn't predictable; in fact he was extremely unpredictable to the point it left Sophie flustered as to where he would go into hiding. She had however clarified several things. The Joker would never leave Gotham until it was left in a tattered mess. Wherever he was, it would probably be outside of the general part of the city. That left the outskirts, or did it?

It was late afternoon but that didn't seem to bother the crowd queuing up to enter a popular club.

Sophie knew the sort of riff-raff that hailed there. Crime lords like Sal Maroni frequented the venue; and then it hit her. If anyone had a clue where the Joker was, it would be Maroni only how would she get to him? The queue was a mile long and she was a novice psychiatrist.

_Great. Just great. What can I do? Go up there and say Maroni needs a doctor?_

Gnawing thoughtfully at her lip, Sophie darted into a nearby convenience store, hopping up and down in a very undignified fashion that spoke volumes to the shopkeeper before she had to say anything. Handing her a key over the counter and pointing around the counter, Sophie thanked him graciously and raced into the bathroom.

Standing in front of a dirty mirror, she tapped her fingers on the basin. What she had on at the moment was not club material; a navy blue suede skirt at a respectable length and a dark blue blouse. With a low growl, Sophie combed her fingers through her dark brown locks, willing the curls to present themselves appropriately around her face. Satisfied, she reached into her bag and produced mascara and silver eye shadow. It brought out the grey of her eyes and gave her a smoky look.

"And I really liked this top," she sighed and delved further into her handbag, retrieving a small set of scissors that she kept at all times in case she needed a weapon or the threading on her clothes came out. Grimacing, she began cutting and cutting, and cutting some more. The process took her a little over twenty minutes and her nose wrinkled.

What stood in the mirror now was definitely something she did not view herself as; the suede skirt had been dissected and shortened. Slits run up both legs, showing a generous amount of thigh while now it barely managed to cover her bottom. The blouse's sleeves were gone and she'd popped open a few more buttons to reveal her cleavage.

Determined and more than a little nervous, Sophie staggered out of the bathroom returned the key with a muttered thank you and dashed out onto the street. Thankfully, the line had thinned out some and she joined the queue.

"Ok. Be calm and cool..." Sophie breathed in and out slowly through her mouth as she got closer to the bouncers; very intimidating ones at that. They were so big and brawny she was sure they could break her over their thighs as easily as a piece of wood. The couple in front of her went through, and she started sashaying towards the bouncers, hoping to God she didn't make a fool of herself.

"Hey handsome," she winked at the closest bouncer; a dark man that reminded her of Blade.

'Blade' looked at her, starting from the bottom up, and it was all she could do not to hit him. Men that started at the bottom were nothing but perverts. Deciding he liked what he saw, he gave her a wide smile.

"Well hello there, sweet cheeks,"

"I'm here to see Maroni...if you get what I mean." Battering her eyelashes sweetly at him, she felt her stomach clench anxiously when he looked at his partner before shrugging and lifted the barricade.

"He's in his normal suite, darlin'. At the back!"

"Thanks," Sophie gave him another saucy (what she thinks is saucy) wink and sashayed past him, feeling his eyes on her backside as she disappeared into the club. As the doors swung open, she was buffeted by deep based music, gyrating bodies and a lot of sweat lingering in the air. Getting through the crowd was hard enough compared to actually finding Maroni.

Standing up on an elevated platform, she peered around, searching for the crime lord and spotted him at the back of the club just as 'Blade' had said. Except he was surrounded by a dozen men and flanked by two blonds.

"Hey you!"

Broken out of her musings, Sophie glanced down to see quite a few people looking up to her, cheering her on.

"Dance, honey! Shake dat ass!"

Bushing as red as an apple, the shock horror of climbing onto a dancing platform hit her square in the face. And then Maroni raised his eyes from the table and met hers. Not even comprehending what she was doing, Sophie began to move her hips in circles, bringing her hands up above her head, grinding to the music. The noise of the crowd said she was doing something right.

Maroni gestured to one of his flunkies and the man nodded before heading in her direction.

"Come with me, miss." He offered a hand up.

"You goin' to pay me, tiger?" What she had been going for was a husky allure than ended up sounding like a rat squeaking.

"Just get off the stage, bitch and let me do my job." With a rough yank, he pulled her down, much to her surprise. Sophie fell into him but didn't collapse as he caught her. "Jesus Christ, woman. If you're that clumsy I don't want to think about what you're like to fuck."

Indignation and anger rose within her and she opened her mouth to yell at him when she remembered what she was doing here. A whore wouldn't care what was said to her. Waving, with effort, an uncaring hand in his face, Sophie sauntered towards Maroni, feeling the sweat begin to bead at the back of her neck.

Arriving at the table, Maroni cocked his head to the side, and eyed Sophie like a prized lamb. Invisible ants marched up and down her arms, eliciting a shiver. The crime lord flickered his fingers impatiently and the two whores stood up, taking the dozen of bodyguards with them.

"Have a seat, gorgeous." Maroni indicated the seat next to him.

Dropping the not so convincing whore act, Sophie plopped herself down beside him and dove straight in. "Do you know where the Joker is?"

Maroni leaned back against the sofa, his eyebrow raised and his mouth quirking as though she'd said something amusing. Funny how Batman had come in to ask him the same thing, only that had ended quite badly. Picking up a glass, he took a sip as she waited, tapping her foot against the floor.

"I don't know where he is," Maroni shrugged off-handed. "Last I heard he was in Arkham."

"You know very well that he isn't."

"Why do you want to know? A young girl like you. Can't be more than twenty-five. The Joker would wrap you up and send you home in pieces."

That was a very chilling point, and it could well be true but Sophie wasn't giving up yet. "Please, I need to find him."

"You know, the last person I had come in here asking where he was, he strung me up and let me hang off a balcony. When I didn't tell him..." Maroni trailed off, frowning uncomfortably and Sophie sensed she was going to have to dig deeper to find out.

"Please. He's all I have left." Sophie begged pathetically, bringing the most depressing memory up from her subconscious; the death of her father, causing tears to spill down her cheeks. The act would have won her a Grammy award on stage but Maroni wasn't buying it.

"The Joker doesn't have any relatives." He deadpanned pointedly. "Go home."

At some ungiven signal, the bodyguards were returning, ready to escort her out or, more than likely, throw her out. "Wait! Wait! I'm telling the truth. He's my father."

_Jesus...that is the worst thing I could have said._

Maroni stared at her, unblinking before a wide smile spread across his face and he roared with laughter. On Sophie's part, her crying visage was kept up and her lower lip trembled. His smile began to drop until it disappeared altogether. "Are you serious?"

Remaining tearful yet thrumming with excitement, Sophie surged into a fantasised story of how the Joker tended to frequent whores (though she was certain that wasn't completely untrue) and that he got one of them pregnant. 'Stella' discovered she was pregnant after a couple of weeks but did not destroy the child as any sensible whore would. No, this one decided to pursue the Joker for a possibility of getting in on his steals.

"And so my mother, when I was six or so, tracked him down and asked that she be given support payments to look after me. The J- my father didn't believe a word of it and sent her away but then that night, men came into the house and...and..." Sophie sobbed, earning a few sympathetic looks from the surrounding bodyguards. "Men came. They killed her...they killed my mother. I was raised in an orphanage."

Now was the time to turn it up a notch. "After all these years, I intend to find him. I will, and I'll avenge my mother." Sophie's eyes burned furiously and Maroni, a little bewildered blinked a few times at her before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a joker card. It was the same one the Joker had planted in front of the mob on approaching them. He figured the moron would still have some way of using that number.

"I don't know where he is but that number is your best way of finding him." Maroni handed her the card, and she reached out a little too eagerly for it because he grabbed her wrist before she could retreat, pulling her close. "If you tell the Joker I gave you this, you'll be dead. Do you understand me?"

Heart beating wildly in her chest, Sophie gave a jerky nod and was let go. "Get out of my sight."

And she did, without even needing a push from his bodyguards.

Once outside of the club, Sophie pulled out the mobile Gordon had given her. It was set to speed dial in case she managed to find any clues. Two rings and the Commissioner answered.

"Sophie, are you all right? My boys couldn't follow you. Where are you?"

"I'm fine," she said, a little breathless. "I spoke to Maroni. He gave me a card with what I can only assume is the Joker's number."

The Commissioner sighed heavily. "Sophie, Maroni is dangerous; less dangerous than the Joker but he could have killed you. That number is probably outdated."

"I can at least try it."

"Well, yes but be careful. _If_ the Joker answers be very careful what you say to him. Keep me notified."

"I will. Bye, Gordon."

"Take care, Sophie, please."

Pressing the end button, Sophie went to the nearest pay phone and inserted a couple of coins before shakily typing in the number on the keypad. It started dialling out and her fingers curled around the cord, needing to keep her hands busy less she start shaking. After nearly ten rings, she was read to give up when it stopped and someone breathing on the other line became audible.

"H-hello?" Sophie all but squeaked, feeling the fool.

"I don't know you, but I'd like to. Yes, you sound qu_ite_ delectable, little mouse." The Joker's gravelly voice sent thrills of both fear and something she couldn't explain down her spine.

"I..umm...I...you see,"

"Come _on_, doll face. I don't got all day y'know." He cackled quietly in her ear and she could hear him licking his lips.

"I want to join you."

All she received was silence and almost jumped out of her skin went he started laughing manically.

"You...ehehe...eheehe!" He giggled sporadically into the phone until his voice turned serious. "Where'd you get this number from?"

Did Maroni really mean he'd kill her? Gordon's warning raced through her mind. What the hell could she say? What should she do? Thinking off the top of her head, Sophie said the lamest most ridiculous thing she could think of, and it was probably going to get her into more trouble. "Batman."

Again, the Joker laughed at her, thoroughly amused. "Oh, I like you. You're so _funny_. You know what's really _funny_? I only gave this number to _one_ person."

"I-"

The line went dead before any response could come to mind. Mentally kicking herself, Sophie stormed away from the pay phone. A week rolls by and nothing happens. She gets a clue and gets in contact with the Joker and ruins it. Uncertainty stopped her in her tracks. The Joker wouldn't come after her would he? How could he anyway? It was a public pay phone. Shaking her head, Sophie wandered back in the direction of her car.

The thought of calling Gordon didn't really cross her mind as the street lights turned on around her; daytime ended and the nightlife began. People were milling about in groups and couples, chattering and shouting, already enjoying the night out. Cursing herself for ruining her clothing, Sophie rubbed furiously at her arms, hastening to get to her car before she froze to death.

As the parking lot came into sight, Sophie quickened her pace, eager to be home and leave the day behind until something stopped her. Clutching her bag to her chest, she studied the lot. Nothing was amiss but she had a sneaky suspicion crawling up her spine. Brushing it off as paranoia, Sophie continued to her car and got in, turning the heater on full-bore.

By the time she climbed the two flights of stairs to her apartment, it was nearing nine. Too tired to even bother having something to eat, Sophie tottered through the flat and collapsed on her bed quickly falling asleep.

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Sophie woke with a start, eyes adjusting to the darkness of her room. The clock on the bedside said it was only one-thirty. Sighing irritated, she clambered off the bed and started changing out of her clothes when she noticed the open window. The breeze was light but cold enough to illicit goose bumps on her skin.

"I didn't open that," she muttered softly and walked towards it when a sound behind her made her freeze.

A darkly amused chuckle drifted from the darkness of her bedroom. A sliver of moonlight drifted into her room, lighting up the far wall near the door. And there, stood the Joker, leaning against her cupboard as if he owned it. Fear and fascination in the same gut-wrenching mix swirled around her. It was really him. Purple waist coat and all. Greasy dark green hair hung over one side of his face; the paint extremely bright and ominous in the moonlight.

"H-how?" Sophie whispered.

The Joker grinned, the red of the paint making the yellow of his teeth stand out. "I have my ways of finding people, doll face. And my, my, my aren't you a _looker_!" Prancing forward, eyes sparkling with menace, he giggled gleefully. Sophie all but plastered herself against the window. All the fantasies, all the dreams of meeting the Clown Prince had come down to this one moment. And she was downright terrified of him.

A knife appeared in his gloved hand and he twirled it around in his fingers expertly, shuffling towards her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Sophie...Sophie Havens," Was the whispered reply. The closer he came, the more she realised just how imaginative her brain. In her thoughts, the Joker was a man unblemished. No scars, no yellow teeth and certainly not a weapon wielder. Seeing him in the flesh was a wakeup call she did not need. Slamming her eyes shut, she waited with a whimper.

"No, no. Shush, shush, shush," The Joker wrapped a hand around her jaw, looking down on her from his superior height. "Look at me."

Sophie whimpered pathetically, trying to pull away from his grip before he pushed her right up against the window. The warmth of his body against her; the strength he harboured was enough for her to resist opening her eyes.

"_Look_ at me!" he all but shouted and her eyes snapped open, tears beginning to well within. Up close, even underneath the red paint, his scars were gruesome and unsightly. Though despite it all, it didn't disturb her, fingers twitching as she resisted the urge to touch them. Looking up into his piercing eyes, she fidgeted. "Now there's a good girl," he cooed with a giggle.

"Did they hurt?" Sophie whispered.

The Joker froze before grinning again, pressing the wicked knife against her cheek. "You wanna know how I got 'em?"

"Yes," The reply seemed to throw him for a millisecond before he giggled and shrugged.

"As a kid I didn't smile. My daddy didn't like that. He said to me one day _'why so serious_?'," The Joker growled in a menacing tone, but it didn't deter Sophie. So concentrated on him as she was. "He got the kitchen knife and said 'let's put a _smile_ on that face'." The Joker grinned at her for emphasis. "And they didn't hurt. But it hurt him after I gave him a smile from ear to ear." He cackled.

Standing in the Joker's presence; being pressed against a window by him was as exhilarating as it was frightening. Despite his unclean appearance, his scent was clean with a musk that was all male, mixed with blood. Sophie decided she liked it and kicked herself.

"Are you going to kill me?"

The Joker tongued at his scars, shifting his weight from foot to foot before swinging away from her, burying his knife in the headboard of her bed. Sophie bit her tongue to stop herself from berating him; who did that? Now the wood would need to be replaced. Sprawling his lean form across the bed, he buried his face in her pillow, smearing paint all over it.

This was the Joker.

In her room.

On her bed.

Smelling her pillow.

What in the hell was going on?

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**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**** Big thanks to ****Emma**** for reviewing.**

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Sophie eyed the open door way to her room and made a dash for it, hearing the Joker cackling behind her like an absolute madman. The time it would take to unlock the two deadbolts would be pointless. Although the apartment was small, it had an assortment of hiding places. Darting into one of the guest bedrooms, she hid herself in the walking robe, trying desperately to control her rapid breathing.

"Soooppphhiiieee, come out, come out wherever you are!" The Joker called in an ominous tone; the deep baritone sending a jolt of fear straight to her bones.

The hallway creaked as he searched for her, humming to himself.

"Da...dada...dee...dodedo...da...," accentuating it with a whistle every few seconds.

A loud bang made her yelp, followed by something heavy coming crashing to the floor. More bangs and crashes occurred, the Joker's glorious laugh rolling over the top. Clearly, the psychopath was enjoying wrecking her flat or he was just rifling through things. Sophie peered around the wall, throwing herself back as he entered the room with heavy, measured steps.

"I heard a mouse in here," he sang in a sing-song voice.

Crouching low to the carpet, Sophie whimpered quietly and hid under the various blankets that were reserved for the guest bed. It was sheer cowardice to hide from him but what more could she do? Another creak; this time so close she was positive he was on the other side of the wall.

"Boss!" A distant voice called.

The Joker growled in vexation, and sweat broke out on Sophie's skin as she heard a gun cock. "_What?!"_

"The Commissioner is on his way. They're keep-"

A gunshot echoed through the room, followed by a heavy thud.

"Can no one do their _fucking_ job? I have to do every_thing_!"

Sophie had retreated from her temporary hiding place, stepping around the wall to come face to face with the Joker. A hand twisted itself into her hair, wrenching her head back while the cool steel of his knife rested just beneath her chin. Grey eyes met intense brown. The psychiatrist in her expected to see madness or some unhinged emotion in the brown depths; yet all she could see was intelligence and cunning.

"So, Jimmy boy is lookin' after you, beautiful?" He licked his lips and leaned in close, sniffing at her skin. "You smell good, doll face. I gotta deal with the cops first then we'll have another _chat_."

Without a 'by your leave' the Joker crushed her feminine frame to his, lips taking over hers in such a domineering, intoxicating manner that her head spinning; and then he was gone. Sophie sank to the floor, pressing shaking fingers to her heated lips. Paint had smeared onto her skin.

There was definitely one thing she had to add to her profile of him.

He was one hell of a kisser.

But more importantly, why hadn't he killed her? If he knew of her involvement with Gordon and Jefferson, why did he spare her?

It wasn't until members of S.W.A.T were helping her stand that she came back to herself, blinking stupidly as Commissioner Gordon stepped into the room. Gently guiding her towards the living room, Sophie slumped onto the couch and he rocked back on his heels in front of her.

"Are you all right, Sophie?" The Commissioner's eyes were full of worry and concern.

"I-I think so," she breathed steadily, a light shake still trembled along the length of her body. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, Sophie felt the need for the fix again. The Joker's presence was intoxicating and so mysterious. "Did he get away?"

"Yes but we've got the building covered now, Sophie. He can't come back in without us noticing him."

"He knew, Gordon. I managed to get in contact with him from that number." She bit her lip guiltily as Gordon frowned but surged on. "I used a pay phone...how could he have found me?"

The Commissioner shook his head tiredly. "We're working on that. The Joker attracts all sorts of people, and not all follow him for the money. Some just thinks he's the next big thing. There's no telling who else was in that club."

_Not too far from the truth._

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Eventually most things slid back into a normal routine. Well, except for seeking out the Joker. Weeks had passed since the incident of having the Clown Prince hunt her in her own home, and she'd managed to put it behind her. Jefferson insisted she continue to do his profiling however, while Gordon was furious, explaining there was no need to put her in danger again.

So poor Sophie had been put under a strict guard. It was embarrassing to be seen out in public with four men watching over her as if she were a child. They insisted it was for her own protection just in case the Joker intended to drop in.

Any attempt at continuing her psychiatry training at Arkham was scratched; permanently put on hiatus until the Joker was safely behind bars. Until then, the PD had set her up in a coffee shop not even ten blocks from Gordon's office; working as a waitress. Four years in studying for a degree and she was stuck waiting on people that wanted coffee and not an analysis of their problems.

"We need you to maintain a clear head," Jefferson had explained. "By taking you off your psychiatry work, you only have one patient to worry about. The coffee gig is so the Commissioner and his department can keep an eye on you."

And the worst part?

Part of her was actually enjoying it. Sure, there were bad days and terrible customers but it was a peaceful, cheerful environment. The co-workers were friendly enough, especially Kimberley, who was a fiery-red head that didn't take no for an answer. They had become fast friends.

"Ah, morning, Pea!" Among being incredibly stubborn, Kimberley had developed a nickname for Sophie.

The moment Sophie stepped into the locker room, Kimberley assaulted her with the horrid nickname. "Morning, Kim. Are you ever going to get tired of that?"

"Nah. Are you kidding me? Its adorable!"

Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, Sophie shoved her bag into her locker, pining her nametag to her uniform which consisted of black slacks and the business's logo shirt. "What if I start calling you fire engine or carrot top?"

"You wouldn't be the first," was the sly reply.

Managing to smile, the young woman shook her head in disbelief before making her way into the kitchen. Mac, the head chef greeted her with a cheerful smile. He was a portly fellow with cherub cheeks and a moustache the size of France.

Sophie tied her apron on, grabbed her notebook and went out into the dining area. Already groups were seating themselves and hailing her down. A few of the other waiters pounced on them, enthusiastically awaiting their orders. Trying to maintain that level of enthusiasm for this job was something Sophie just couldn't do. It was mundane.

"Miss?" An elderly couple she recognised waved at her from a back table.

"Ah, Mr and Mrs Fletcher. Nice to see you again," Sophie said with a polite smile, genuinely pleased to see them. "What'll it be for today?"

"The usual, please, oh and perhaps some pancakes?"

"And I'm going to go out on a limb here, dear but I'm craving a milkshake. Chocolate!" Mrs Fletcher put in.

Sophie laughed, "Sure. Comin' right up."

A selection of booths were available on the other side of the cafe that allowed the serving of alcohol. There was rarely anyone there during the day but a hand hailing her down had her hastening to that side to come upon a man hidden by a newspaper.

"What can I get you?" Sophie said cheerfully, pen hovering over her notepad when she noticed the man wore gloves. Leather, and purple.

"Ah...let me _see_. I'll get...uh...peas. You got peas, doll face?"

Sophie went as stiff as a board and her face drained of all colour.

The newspaper lowered to reveal the Joker in his clown glory. How in the hell he managed to get into the cafe without being seen was uncanny. As the newspaper flopped onto the table several photos of Sophie spilled out across the wood in a variety of situations. The one that worried her the most was a picture of her working desk. 'The Joker' in bold capitals with words flowing down the page.

"How did you manage to take that?"

"I'm very resourceful, beautiful. You'd be surprised just how many things I can do," his tongue crept over his lips, eyes dark as he stared at her. Drawing in a deep breath, Sophie gathered some courage and frowned at him.

"Go away."

With speed and dexterity that Sophie had only ever seen on TV, the Joker lunged for her, laughing insanely as he fisted his hand in her hair, his lips brushing against her ear. Now they had the entire attention of the cafe and people were beginning to panic.

"Sit down!" The Joker snarled, producing his gun from his coat pocket, panning it around the assortment of customers. One man darted for the door and Joker shot him without even blinking. Sophie remained still, for fear he'd turn the gun on her. "Now, we can have our little chat sweet Pea, just as soon as I take care of...business."

Several of his clowns came in via the back entrance, carrying explosives which had the customers fainting in their seats. The Joker rolled his eyes and shoved Sophie at one the clowns before pocketing his gun. He set to work on rigging up the explosives, his brow furrowed in concentration; gloved fingers quick and experienced made sure everything was perfect.

"You can't!" Sophie cried attempting to step forward but the restraining clown wouldn't let her.

Hair hanging down over his face, the Joker peered at her over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? You gonna stop me, babe?"

Kimberley, who'd been standing stunned against the wall, moved into action. "I'll stop you, you crazy, insane, psychotic murderer!" The red-headed waitress stormed toward him, and Sophie barked out a warning to get clear but it was too late.

Standing, the Joker cocked his head to the side. "No, I'm not. I'm no_t_." And then he shot her.

"Kim, no!" Sophie screamed, kicking and fighting with everything she had. A vicious elbow to the clown's midsection had him on the ground, cursing. Another clown moved in to stop her, quickly finding himself on the floor as her knee found his groin. The Joker watched with amusement, but his head tilted to the side. The explosives were rigged to blow.

"Enjoy the show folks. Its gonna be a _blast_!" He cackled, literally skipping out the back door, followed by his clowns and an distraught Sophie.

The moment they were clear of the blast range, the Joker pulled a remote from his inner coat pocket and laughed gleefully as he pushed the button. The cafe went up in spiralling flames and smoke; the screams of the dying and the injured coloured the air. Police were racing down the street, followed closely by ambulances and fire-fighters.

"You're a monster!" She whispered, her eyes glued to the destruction.

"Awww, Pea. You flatter me," he giggled and shuffled over to her. The gathered clowns hastened towards their cars hidden in back alleys. Sophie tensed as the Joker's arm draped over her shoulders, walking her towards a black sedan. Saying or doing anything was out of the question. Trying to escape him would be pointless. Trying to talk him down as a shrink would be suicide.

"In ya go, babe." The Joker pushed her into the back seat, sliding in after her.

The cars made a quick escape, soon leaving the police that had spotted them far behind. As they drove further into the city centre, Sophie chewed anxiously at her lip, having all but glued herself to the car door. So many people had been killed, and for what? For some lunatic's personal entertainment.

"Sally boy happened to..ah..._mention_ you'd been lookin' for me," The Joker said casually. "Got some balls, he does."

"Did you kill him?" Sophie deadpanned, numb from shock and anger.

"Yup."

That answer alone made her head whip around and in an instant, recoil, to find him right next to her. "W-why?"

The Joker leaned in close, pressing against her side as his hand snaked around her waist. A spark of desire spread through the entirety of her waist before ricocheting from the tips of her toes, to her head. What made it a hell of a lot worse was when the Joker unbelted her and placed her on his lap, grasping her jaw with his free hand.

"Because I felt like it. I actually saved your life, doll face. Sally's little henchmen were sniffin' around your apartment."

Sophie wriggled uncomfortably, more because of her body's reaction than being in the Joker's lap. Remembering the kiss he'd given her didn't exactly help matters. Mentally beating the crap out of the dirty thoughts dancing through her subconscious, Sophie focused on his words rather than the heat of his body.

"Why did you kill Kim?"

"Kim was a detective, babe. She lied to you," he cooed with a giggle.

"You're lying!"

"Poor little Pea. Pot calling the kettle blaaaaaccck. You're a shrink. I'll admit, I got a kick out of your excuse to Sally. Do I fuck whores? Yup. Would they came crawling back to me requesting child support?" The Joker snorted. "I'd put a bullet in their gut just in case it happened to be true."

"Let go of me." Sophie spat at him, baring her teeth like an enraged kitten.

For all her effort to looking intimidating, the Joker roared with laughter, pinching her cheeks in a mocking fashion. "Ah you're so funny and cute. Oh, and I...ah...know your little secret. You've got some interesting reading material on that little desk of yours, babe."

Everything and anything she'd gathered, written or worked on about the Joker was all on that desk. At sixteen, Sophie had even gone so far as to buy a diary specifically for doodling 'S & J together 4 eva'; it was littered with fluffy propaganda and little smut scenes her imagination had warped into something fantastic. How naive she had been. God help her if he had found _that_.

"You're an interesting...man. I've been researching you for years."

The Joker's reply was simply a sardonic eyebrow raise before he pulled the diary out from his jacket pocket, waving it in front of her face. "A little more than that." he cackled. Blushing prettily Sophie grabbed for the diary, whining in frustration when he used the superior length of his arm to hold it away from her.

Cackling at her continued attempts, the Joker was discreetly made aware that they had arrived at the destination.

"Please, it was the imagination of a child," Sophie murmured sulkily.

"How old are you now, babe?"

"None of your-" The steely length of his fingers wrapped around her jaw, jerking her towards him. His eyes were sinister and dark.

"You are now my business." He all but growled.

The door opened and Sophie was hauled out of the car. "Gently, boys, gently." The Joker cooed as he stepped out after them.

A large, decrepit warehouse was the sight that greeted Sophie; its dingy swinging doors, broken windows and vast amounts of graffiti littered its side. So that was the Joker's infamous hide out. To her credit, Sophie had managed to keep a handle on her nervousness, using anger instead. The Joker sauntered into the building, the clowns dragging Sophie followed in his wake.

Inside was not your average warehouse; it was wired to the hilt. Surveillance televisions, sound systems, racks upon racks of weaponry and ammunition. On the other side of the warehouse were several sets of sofas where the cleans immediately relaxed, some playing poker, others enjoying a cigarette. Opposite that was a large board strewn with photos, newspaper clippings and darts. Sophie's jaw almost hit the floor.

The Joker appeared at her side, wrapping fingers of steel around her wrist. Sophie started to protest by a low, sinister glance from him shut her mouth. Leading her into a hidden alcove that opened up to a staircase, he climbed two at a time, forcing her to keep up with him less she face plant into the dusty old boards.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, the Joker lead her through a door to the right which revealed an old bedroom. Sophie knew this was his room. It was definitely cleaner than downstairs but still held the traces of a male presence; clothes littered the floor, empty containers of paint piled up on top of each other in an overflowing waste bin and the definitive, masculine smell that was all the Joker.

A moderate sixed TV sat just next to the wall; it was already on, revealing the aftermath of the cafe explosion. The camera panned to the right, catching Jim Gordon in his trademark pose; hands on his hips, and looking around as though the world was coming to a tragic end.

"Oh...we gotta listen to this," The Joker muttered and kicked the volume up.

"...suspect the Joker is involved. All the occupants that were inside at the time are...dead. We do know that the Joker has a hostage." A picture of Sophie presented itself on the screen. "Miss Havens was last seen being taken forcibly in a black sedan. We're doing everything in our power to find her."

Laughing softly in a low octave that made Sophie break out in goose bumps, the Joker switched the television off, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders.

"So little, Pea. Whatcha in for?" The Joker sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning forward with his hands draped between his thighs. "And can the bullshit. Tell the tr_uth_."

Sophie fiddled with them hem of her shirt, unsure of what to say or do. Gordon had made it sound easy. This was not easy, nor was her assignment possible considering the Joker was aware she was a psychiatrist. Was there a way to turn the tables or was she just screwed?

"I was chasing a position at Arkham. Jefferson-"

"Get to the juicy part, doll face." The Joker interrupted her, twirling his knife between his hands.

Swallowing nervously, she said, "Profiling. They wanted me to do a write up on you, and bring you in."

The Joker simply stared at her before throwing his head back and laughing uproariously.

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**Writing this has been on word inspiration alone. Reviews would help a lot to kick my enthusiasm up a notch. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**** Hey, guys! Yay I gots reviews. Woot!**

**So this chapter is a little heavy with action and fluffyness at the end. I hope I didn't put the Joker too far out of character but he's not superman.**

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**UppersNDowners****: Thank you. I'm glad I was able to inspire a reaction in someone!**

**Virtu**** (cause I'm too lasy to write the rest of it): No Harley Quinn! Well, maybe. I'll keep ya guessing.**

**Nymph. Naji:**** Yeah, I dont want her to be too placid about the way the Joker works. :P**

**Thanks to ****ArlettaSmith**** and ****Elena777**** for reviewing.**

**You guys make me want to keep writing harder, and bring more Joker goodness to the world!**

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**Oh, and I don't own the Joker. Forgot about that. **

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**I re-edited this chapter cause I didn't like the ending.**

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Looking on nervously, Sophie prepared for the moment when he snapped and killed her at her admission. But, the Joker was too set on getting his breath back; giggling and coughing with intense mirth. Vying for another approach, she gingerly stepped over to him and took the blade from where he'd dropped it on his bed.

Admiring the knife's sheer craftsmanship, Sophie ran delicate fingers over the steel, shivering at the cold touch. Not even a hint of blood or rust was present. The Joker loved his weapons too much to let them get blunt or stay dirty. Hell, it even glinted like it was brand new. Not only had she recorded his personality, but his weapon preferences as well.

"Don't cut yourself," The Joker said softly. Sophie jumped. He was right in front of her.

"Why did you take me?"

The Joker sucked noisily on his scars, before taking his weapon from her and running the blunt side of his knife down her neck. "I like you, doll face. You're...interesting," he quoted her with a dark smile. Sophie swallowed hard, pulse hammering. With a practised, precise cut, the Joker cut the sleeves from her work shirt, much to her protest. Sophie mentally cursed, understanding what he must have seen weeks ago.

Rapidly stepping backwards, Sophie started on the retreat but not before the Joker grabbed the back of her neck and yanked her forwards, pressing her against his body. "Hey, hey, shush." The knife disappeared into the expanse of his waistcoat as he grasped both her wrists in his hand, the leather brushing against her soft flesh.

Lining the inside of both wrists were several scars; haphazard and clumsy were the few circling the join of wrist to hand, both the ones continuing after that were more precise and deeper. Obviously as she'd aged, it was easier to keep her hand still.

"You made these not more than a few years ago."

With more strength than she knew she had, Sophie yanked her wrists out of his grip before he recaptured them tighter than before. "Yeah so?" Sophie said tightly, clenching her jaw, eyes hard. The Joker giggled at her, holding her eyes as he ran his tongue over the scars. Her breath hitched in her throat, her body tightening in response. What the hell? Did having him lick her scars just do that?

"So I think they're beautiful. And I don't want you hiding them, babe."

Ever since Sophie had gotten into high school, people had bullied her for having superior intelligence and an interest in something other than sex and drugs. Even with continuous sessions of counselling and support from her parents, letting her pain run in the form of blood was the best option available at the time. As she got older, shame had descended from that act. Now with the Joker calling them beautiful, it caused a disturbance in her.

"They disgust me." Sophie spat. "They resemble the person I used to be." The Joker looked intrigued and made a circular motion with his hand, encouraging her to continue. "I was weak enough that I slit my wrists to wash away my pain. It was pathetic."

"Well, babe, you should appreciate them now then. They changed you into a delectable woman."

Sophie blushed a startling red, causing the Joker to giggle merrily before releasing her from his grip. The Joker really didn't have any morale bounds or limitations on how he viewed someone's life. It was refreshing. People that beat around the bush and told you what they thought would make you happy, are despicable.

A set of clothes landed on her head, making her squeak in fright, automatically catching them so they didn't fall on the blood stained carpet. The Joker was rummaging through a dusty old wardrobe, muttering and grumbling to himself with the occasional chuckle. What he'd thrown at her was a lilac, short frilly dress that looked like something out of a gentlemen's club. Sophie wrinkled her nose and held it at arm's length. It was trashy but the inner woman within her adored it.

"We're going out tonight, babe. You gotta look presentable on my arm." He said into the wardrobe.

That was rich coming from a man who wore the same suit every day and was decked out like a clown. "W-where are we going?"

"Clean up duty. The other...ah...mob bosses aren't too..._pleased_ with me for slittin' Sally's throat."

Sophie frowned at the visualisation. "But they'll kill you."

The Joker popped his head out of the wardrobe, wearing a sinister grin as he stalked toward her. Sophie stubbornly held her ground as he came to tower over her. "Trust me, doll face. They won't."

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Two hours after sundown, Sophie was alone with the Joker.

No clowns.

No onlookers.

No one.

Just her and him.

Walking down an alley.

Much to her displeasure, the Joker had managed to get her into the dress. Hands, limbs and clothes had flown all over the place despite Sophie's efforts to kick him away. He'd found it hilarious the entire time, and done something worse.

After wrestling her into the dress, he'd reapplied his paint and then turned the brush on her. The outcome hadn't ended well. Spilt paint and much cursing, Sophie had managed to flee from him; the only thing he'd had the chance to paint on was a ridiculous feminine smile.

The Joker kept his gun out the whole time, pressed against one side while he had his other arm around her. Keeping up with his long stride wasn't the hard part. Feeling all that powerful, male muscle brushing down her body was a lot to handle. It sent shivers of desire, exhilaration and caution through her very bones.

Their destination became quite apparent with the flashing lights and rowdy signs. Sophie just barely managed to refrain from turning on her heel and storming the hell out of there, but the Joker's arm was like steel around her. It was a gentlemen's club. No wonder he'd picked out that dress. What, was she supposed to blend in with the whores and act the part?

As they entered, women in awe-inspiring outfits greeted them with devilish smiles. The disturbing part was that the smiles weren't just at the Joker, but at Sophie as well. One woman even gave her backside a quick squeeze causing Sophie to crawl up the Joker's side, more afraid of the whore than the Clown Prince.

The whore quickly found a gun digging into the flesh of her neck. Holding Sophie to the side and behind him, he leaned close to the trembling woman, tonguing at his scars. "I don't _like_ people touching _my_...ah...property." And without any further ado, the gun went off, echoing in the fancy parlour. Blood splattered the wall and would have scored the Joker if he hadn't dodged with a giggle. The body slumped to the floor.

Sophie could barely believe what he'd just done or said. Property?! She wasn't a piece of land or a possession. Any idea of protest quickly vanished as the Joker steered her down the corridor as though nothing had occurred, whistling loudly to himself. Any whores in the way quickly pressed themselves flat against the wall; not interested in having their blood painted on the wall.

Heavily armed thugs became visible around the corner, freezing as the Joker stalked towards them, waving his gun and tsking at them as their hands twitched. "Careful, boys, you might hit my lovely, little lady here."

Both thugs glanced at each other before pulling guns from their holsters, but the Joker was quicker, shoving Sophie behind him. Having not expected the Joker to be valiant, the woman stumbled in the ridiculous heels he had forced her to wear and landed on her ass. Laughing darkly, he gunned the two morons down within seconds, kicking their bodies out of the way.

"You gonna stay down there all day, doll face?" The Joker gave her a quick smirk over his shoulder before shoving the door open to reveal the gathered members of what remained of the mob. Waltzing in as though he owned the place, Sophie could only watch him from her position on the floor before shaking her head and getting to her feet, running her sore backside.

The Joker, arrogant as ever, planted himself on a seat, propping his feet up on an antique table while the mob looked on anxiously.

"What are you doing here, Joker?" One of Maroni's former thugs said quietly.

"I have a proposition for you," The Joker twirled his gun around his fingers. Sophie carefully walked up to stand slightly behind him and to the side, lowering her gaze to her shoes as the men eyed her speculatively. "I want-"

"What's with the whore?" Another of the mob spoke up, not overly experienced with the Joker's mood swings. He did not see the Clown Prince's fingers twitch nor did he see the dark eyes begin to narrow at him. Sophie glanced up, blushing in anger at being called a whore...again. Normally, the novice psychiatrist was a person with a cool temper and an outrageous amount of patience when someone was deliberately trying to upset her. With all that had happened, who could blame that Sophie lost it a little.

Uncaring that each member of the mob were armed, Sophie stomped angrily across the length of the room, jabbing a finger into the tall man's chest. "Listen here. I am not a whore. I am a psychiatrist. And I'm here because I got dragged here by him," she pointed in the general direction of the Joker, hearing him giggle.

Blinking stupidly at her, the man didn't quite expect such a response nor was he ready for the feminine imprint of a hand and the following sting on his cheek. Silence ensued, making the already tense atmosphere just that much worse. Realising with horror what she'd done, Sophie paced backwards, opening and closing her mouth. Slow, deliberate applause broke the silence.

"Well, well, well, Pea has claws. I knew I liked you, babe." The Joker had watched her movements like a hawk the moment she'd stepped out and defended herself. It was an attractive trait, especially with that dress. Licking at his scars he stood with a flourish of his jacket, tugging at the lapels. "Now, if you want to live, I want all of you to start tearing shit up. Kill people on the streets for all I care. Just make sure cameras and witnesses catch ya doin' it."

Since the Joker got thrown in jail, crime _had _continued but it was of the petty sought; purses and wallets getting nicked and domestic violence. Without Batman there to come to the aid of the innocents, it had plodded along, and now the Joker wanted it to skyrocket. Chaos was, after all, his job. But he could only be in so many places at once.

"You expect us to just do as you say?" One of the elderly men in the mob snapped.

"Yeah." The Joker deadpanned.

Sophie glanced nervously between the mob and the Clown Prince; noting in particular that the man she'd hit was eyeing her with malevolence. It was uncanny how quickly Sophie was getting used to the Joker and his violent behaviour. Even the shock of him blowing up the cafe had worn away. Was she that heartless that she just didn't care? Or was it because The Joker was the culprit, that her feelings were clamped down in her subconscious? Not good.

The mob seemed to communicate in silence before the elderly one slowly inclined his head. "All right, clown. We'll do it but if you double cross us..."

"Would I do that?" The Joker grinned in mocking innocence, adding a low sweeping bow just to hear their teeth grind. "Come on, doll face. Time to go."

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For the rest of the night, The Joker made frequent stops at a number of places, either threatening or coaxing people to get what he wanted. Sophie was, dare she admit it, enjoying his company. It wasn't as though he was showering affection or taking her on a date; it was the security Sophie found in his presence. The fierce, determined presence of a man on a mission. But was it really so? Did her infatuation blind her from the truth?

At the tender age of six, her parents had divorced. By pretending they were still together, Sophie had protected herself against the pain of their separation. Was this similar? Musing quietly in the dark, she did not realise the Joker had stopped walking until she found her nose pressed into his back.

"Ow," she murmured and stepped back, noting that he was as stiff as a statute, his body beginning to shake. Concerned, Sophie moved to stand just in front, peering up to see him grinning like a madman, eyes set on something behind her.

Following his direction, Sophie turned to find several policemen blocking the alley with Commissioner Gordon at the head, already brandishing his gun at the Joker.

"Sophie, you all right?" He called to her.

Was she all right? Physically, fantastic. Psychologically after spending just half a day with the Joker? Not really. Her head went up and down in a jerky interpretation of a nod. The Joker glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She wasn't running like a bat out of hell toward the officers; it almost seemed as though Sophie was inching behind _him_.

Giggling like a madman, the Joker gave the policemen a mocking salute, grinning from ear to ear as some of them jumped. Not Gordon though. Tough old goat.

"How did you...ah...find me...Jimmy-boy. Did dear Barbara tell you? Always was rather _loose_ with her tongue." The Joker cackled, getting louder as Gordon bristled in anger. Obviously, the Commissioner knew the Joker was just being infuriating, but putting his wife in the mix? Not cool. Slowly creeping forward with the firearm raised to the Joker's chest, Gordon raised his other hand up in a pacifying gesture.

"This doesn't have to get ugly, Joker."

The Joker chuckled in such a dark, blood curling way that Sophie shivered delicately against his side. The pulse of his body was getting stronger; muscles flexing between the clothing and skin of his body. Was it possible that the Joker wasn't scared? Did he actually enjoy the idea of there being a death match? Judging by his vibrating form, it was clear he was definitely looking forward to spilling some blood.

"Oh, but I think it does. Ugliness is the next best step towards beauty."

As if on queue, one of the policemen went down at the back of the group, a scream of pain tearing from the bloody ruin of his throat. Blood splashed across his comrades; decorating them in the red liquid. The Joker let out a full-throated laugh. "See? It's so...pretty."

Clowns appeared on the rooftops above, sighting down numerous, powerful weapons. They didn't exactly have the officers outnumbered, but they certainly had them outgunned. Sophie felt the blood pumping through her body; and I need for fight or flight arose within her. Was it wise to stay with the Joker? Would he even let her live or would he kill her when he decided he didn't like her anymore?

Cross-fire exploded into the alley; the shots loud and almost deafening in the close confines. Sophie screamed in terror, going down on her knees behind the Joker, hands held protectively over her ears. Said man was now stalking towards the officers, straight for Gordon. It was impossible to comprehend what the Commissioner was shouting at the approaching psychopath over the gunfire. But as the Joker kept coming, it became obvious they were warnings.

Gordon fired.

Heart almost coming to a complete halt in her chest, Sophie stared wide-eyed at the Joker's back, thinking he had been shot. But by Gordon's expression, it was clear that had been a warning shot. The Joker leapt at him with the glee of a madman and the ferocity of a lion, pouncing on its prey. The two men tussled on the ground, each vying for the advantage over the other.

Sophie crawled closer on her belly, not even noticing the dirty ground or the fact that she was ruining the lilac dress. Despite the numbers, the clowns were slowly but surely driving the policemen back. The thud of flesh hitting flesh was audible even over the gunfire, or maybe it's because Sophie could barely hear it anymore. Gordon had managed to disarm the Joker, but couldn't stop the powerful criminal from delivering some serious punches.

The Commissioner grappled with the Joker, glaring into that smug, smiling face before kneeing him in the stomach.

"Ah..hee...oo...ah...hehe...hee," The Joker breathed above him. "Hit me harder, Gordon."

"Oh, I'll hit you harder." With every muscle in his body, Gordon just managed to kick the Joker off of him, scrambling for his firearm as the psychopath cackled at him from where he landed.

Now closer, Sophie let out a sobbing breath of fear as Gordon raised the retrieved firearm at the Joker.

Grinning like the cheshire cat, the Joker swept his arms out to the side. An open invitation. "Go on, Jimmy-boy. Let's see if ya got the balls."

_Don't do it. Please don't to do it._

Sophie chanted in her mind over and over again. Hating the Joker for baiting him, and hating Gordon for even considering gunning down an unarmed man. The Commissioner seemed to sense disapproving eyes on him and turned his head just slightly to nod at her before the Joker collapsed to his knees.

The assailant was one of the _clowns_. It cursed down at the Joker. "I'm sick of following a fucking clown." The man shot the Joker again for good measure.

Sophie gaped, hardly able to believe her eyes. A clown had gunned down the Joker. How? The Joker was invincible, wasn't he? Without even realising it, Sophie was on her feet, all but sprinting to the Joker's side. Wet dirt and gravel went flying as she crouched beside him, meeting his dark, dark eyes. Blood was blossoming around his left shoulder, and lower down on his abdomen.

"Hold on." Sophie murmured, feeling tears prickling at her eyes. Why was she crying?

"Go, doll face. Get outta here."

"No." She said, suddenly fierce. Grabbing his gun, she mentally grimaced at how heavy it was. How did men manage to swing this around one-handed? Sensing Gordon behind her, she swivelled on her needs; the barrel coming to rest at the Commissioner's stomach. "Back off, Gordon."

Gordon could see something else in Sophie's eyes as he felt the gun pressed into his stomach. What had happened to her after spending so little time with the Joker? Had he manipulated her? The Commissioner frowned, raising his hands in a calming gesture, pointing his gun skyward.

"Now, Sophie. Easy. You don't know what you're doing."

The once serene grey eyes were now like ferocious, black storm clouds. If it were possible, Gordon wouldn't past there being lightning bolts shouting out of them. Though her body was trembling with adrenaline, Sophie just kept her gun hand steady; the ache in her arm from the weight slowly beginning to tire her. Keeping the gun on Gordon, Sophie began searching with her hand, touching the Joker's coat and following it to his arm.

Scooting backwards, Sophie linked her arm under the Joker's, forcing him into a sitting position. The Commissioner stayed as still as stone, doing nothing but watching in slight disbelief. The gunshots around them seemed to become a secondary presence. The Joker himself was in shock, staring at this young psychiatrist, risking herself to save hm. Using what remained of his strength, the Joker got unsteadily to his feet, leaning heavily on the short woman, hearing her breath leave her in a gasp of effort.

One or the other. It was either grab the Joker or leave the gun.

"Give it here, Pea," The Joker made flicked his hand at her.

"Don't do it, Sophie!" Gordon was beginning to raise his gun again before the Joker yanked the gun out of Sophie's hand and shot the Commissioner deliberately in the thigh. Gordon went down with a shout, clutching at his wound. Sophie shivered in terror; the weight of the Joker and tension of the situation was almost too much.

Burying his face in her hair, the Joker inhaled the sweet scent of her. Never in his entire life had he felt this way about someone before. Sophie was soft, gentle and yet here she was, aiding him. A genuine smile flitted across the Joker's lips before his vision dimmed and he went limp against her, the gun falling from his grasp.

Sophie staggered under the dead weight, horror bursting into her veins. "No! No! Don't die!"

It took every screaming muscle in her body to collect the gun.

Forgetting about everything except the Joker, Sophie hastened away as fast as the male's heavy body would let her. Gordon watched her go, despair gripping him as he realised, in this short a time, Sophie had succumbed to the Joker's charms.

Breathing heavily; the ache in her limbs so profound, Sophie soon left the alley far behind. No one had followed and the Joker's unsteady breathing at her ear was starting to become less frequent. Snarling with frustration and exhaustion, Sophie hauled him towards an open street. There was hardly any traffic at this time of the morning. And there was no way in hell she could get him to a hospital without putting him back in Arkham.

With a shock, Sophie noticed they weren't too far from her apartment. The police were sure to check there but if she could just stabilise his wounds, she'd be able to move him elsewhere. One thing to worry about at a time. Continuing to struggle with the Joker's weight, Sophie crossed in the street in a painstakingly slow hobble.

Rarely had Sophie ever used the lift in the apartment building; it would have been hell to have to carry him up the two flights of stairs. Luckily, no one was up and about so late after midnight. Sophie cursed colourfully as she came to her door. Couldn't open doors without keys. And the keys to the door were in her locker...in the cafe. Lowering the Joker carefully to rest beside the door, Sophie frisked around in a pot plant nearby, having hid a spare if she ever lost the main keys.

As her fingers closed around the cool steel, immense relief swept through her. Fumbling at the door lock, it took her a staggering two minutes to finally open it and lug the Joker inside, closing the door as softly as she could. Everything was as she had left it. The Joker obviously hadn't wrecked her living room so with a great heave she put him on the couch, rolling him onto his back but making sure his head tilted to the side.

Before psychiatry, Sophie had had a profound interest in becoming a doctor or the nearest to it. She was almost positive that his life could be saved. Without wasting another second, Sophie dashed around the apartment, gathering everything she would need. Firstly, she applied towels to his wounds, soaking up the blood and using pressure to slow the bleeding. Kneeling by the couch, a wave of exhaustion had hit her without warning and she almost went face first into his blood.

"Jesus," she murmured, blinking away the sudden blur developing behind her eyes.

The Joker had to live.

Sophie listened steadily to his breathing; airways were clear, and the lungs hadn't been punctured. Though much to her panic, his heart was going downhill very quickly.

Until it stopped.

"No!" Sophie whispered angrily, immediately launching into cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Sudden strength enveloped her arms, giving her the energy to push down on his chest, leaning down to give him air, mentally counting in her head. The Joker remained lifeless despite her consistence. "No, no...no!"

Blood was beginning to show through the towels and she hastily replaced them; dumping the sodden ones uncaringly on her carpet. Pumping his chest and breathing air into his mouth, Sophie kept on, tears streaming in endless lines down her cheeks.

"Come on! Don't you die on me!"

Sophie had lost her father in a similar fashion, though he had had a heart attack. Despite working to save him for twenty minutes, she had failed. Sophie's mother had been proud of her, but died a couple of years later to depression. So many people around her had died. The Joker could not - _will_ not be one of them!

Shaking like a leaf, Sophie gave his chest one last, lingering push, sobbing in relief as he sucked in a shaky breath before coughing.

"Doll face..." Brown eyes slid open to meet grey.

"Joker..." she murmured softly, raising up to curl her arms around the uninjured side of his chest. Against all odds, she had saved him.

The Joker took in a deep, shaking breath before letting it out in a soft sigh. He placed his hand weakly on her shoulder. Sophie's heart thrummed with anticipation.

"Who the _fucking_ hell shot me?"

_Well that was romantic._

* * *

***hides behind Joker cut out* Now dun you be throwing things at me, fangirls! He survived, dammit. If you've got any suggestions, flames or cheers, let me know!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for reviewing. And very special thanks to **The Lovelorn Angel**in particular. ^_^

* * *

With warm water smoothing down her shoulders and back, Sophie finally allowed herself to relax. After the Joker's initial outburst, he'd promptly passed out, giving her the necessary time to divest him of his jacket and whatnot in order to wrap his wounds in bandages. Although he was dubbed a psychopath, he was still a man and boy, did he have muscle in that lithe chest.

Not many could say they'd been lucky enough to touch the Joker's flesh; it had taken Sophie everything in her body to resist doing something completely unprofessional. After checking his bandages fifteen minutes later, Sophie had fled to the bathroom to clean up.

There were a number of things going through her mind now.

Blood stains lined the carpet, and had permanently stained the fabric of her couch. Hell, the entire apartment almost smelt of the metallic substance. Releasing a heavy sigh, Sophie pressed her soaked face against the shower wall, eyelashes fluttering in a losing battle to succumb to sleep.

And sleep she did, half up-right with her mouth parted; water streaming steadily down her skin.

Meanwhile, the patient of her attentions was beginning to stir restlessly, unceremoniously dumping himself on the floor as he rolled to the left. The Joker's eyes flashed open, eyes searching the room to find used bandages and medical products lying on the coffee table. Save for his pants and shoes, he wore nothing except blood-stained bandages. Poking a wound experimentally, the Joker acknowledged the sharp vibe his brain sent him but otherwise ignored it. Getting his feet underneath him, the Joker went to stand and fell face first into the couch, smearing blood over his skin.

"Now that's what I get for losing too much blood," he giggled loudly and had another attempt, wind-milling his arms as he gained balance. The Joker changed the soiled bandages, wrapping them tightly around his shoulder and abdomen with experienced ease. On went the remainder of his clothes with bullet holes; that would need to be remedied shortly.

Sucking nosily on his scars, The Joker went to thoroughly examining the small but quaint apartment.

* * *

Running out of warm water was one thing.

Having the water turn from hot to absolutely freezing woke Sophie up with a start; coughing hysterically as water threatened to spill down into her trachea. Groaning and with eyes half-closed, she reached out and turned the knobs, listening sleepily as the last few drops hit the tiles. A crash from the other end of the apartment reminded her of the house guest.

With a barely dignified squeak, Sophie barrelled out of the shower and scrubbed the moisture away from her skin with a well-worn in towel. What in the hell was the Joker doing up? More than a little concerned, she fetched the bathrobe off the bathroom door and wrapped it around her body, tying the little sash.

"Popcorn...peas...hehehe...peas. Noodles? Choc chip cookies?"

Sophie crept into the hallway and poked her head around the corner to see the Joker rummaging through her cupboard. The knife draw had been upended onto the porcelain counter top; even from this distance the cracks were very prominent.

"Coco pops...fruit loops...Jesus Christ, doesn't she have any _real_ food?"

"That depends what you class as real food," Sophie deadpanned, leaning carelessly against the wall with arms folded.

A normal person may have been startled or at least twitch. The Joker didn't do either and simply peered over his shoulder at her with a sly grin. "Pizza. Burgers. Man food."

"Not in my home."

A raised eyebrow was the only response she received before he continued rummaging through every box, container and compartment the kitchen contained. And then the Joker did a double-take, appraising Sophie's form; wet, bedraggled hair with the bathrobe only just clinging to her smooth shoulders.

Sophie let out a squeak of surprise as he abandoned his search for food and stalked towards her like a giant cat, tonguing at his scars. Running was foolish; she'd saved his life and he if he'd wanted to kill her he would have done it already. Though running still seemed like an excellent idea as he towered over her, flapping his hands uselessly at his sides.

"Well don't you clean up nice," The Joker growled, baring his teeth in a fierce grin.

Sensations coiled in her gut at the deep timbre of his voice, unconsciously backing herself up against the wall. Following her, he caged Sophie with his body, one hand flat against the wall above her head. Fingers were deftly tugging at the loose tie of the bathrobe and despite the pulse of fear running through her veins, there was anticipation too.

"W-what are you doing?!" Sophie hissed. "You're injured!"

Common sense would have dictated for her to be shoving him away and calling him a pervert. Instead, she thinks of nothing but his warm proximity and powerful frame. And there was indeed claim to her words; the bandages he'd applied had become soiled already. Was he really that immune to pain?

The Joker laughed in a high cackle, sending a shiver down the length of her body.

Stuck in an apartment.

With an injured Joker.

What could be more unusual?

Sophie was brought out of her inner musings when a leather clad hand crept around her side and another slid to her neck. The Joker splayed his hand across her backside before squeezing tightly and pulling her against the firmness of his body. Fire licked nerves and muscles, sending them into tightening spasms of pleasure. A breathy gasp tore from her lips and the Joker pounced, attacking her lips with teeth and tongue.

The Joker's errant hand fled from her neck and joined its partner at her backside before curving his fingers around the backs of her thighs, hefting her in one easy movement. Reacting on instinct alone, Sophie rocked slowly against him, locking her ankles at his lower back. Muttering a colourful curse, the Joker attacked her neck, leaving a menagerie of marks that would later cause many questions.

With three powerful strides, he had the young woman on the kitchen counter, scattering knives and other equipment all over the place. Emboldened by his clear lust for her, Sophie gingerly ran her hands across his broad shoulders, smiling as he shivered at the touch. When he didn't stop her, her fingers continued down his arms, feeling the muscles flex with power even under his shirt.

The Joker watched her, breathing sharply as her delicate fingers explored his chest. Sophie immediately withdrew, fearing she'd hurt the wound in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry-"

The Joker was on her again, kissing her as though he would devour her.

The doorbell rang.

The sound was like a splash of cold water doused on her. Wrenching her mouth out of the Joker's persistent reach and considering his weakened state, all it took was a small shove to move him back before Sophie made a mad dash for the door.

Before stopping mid-stride.

It was very early in the morning, the sun at least an hour away from rising and someone was ringing her doorbell. It sounded again. Sophie began to step forward when arms of steel enlaced her frame, warm breath fanning against her neck.

"Get off me!" Sophie hissed between her teeth, a flush of embarrassment crawling up her neck.

Ignoring any and all protests, the Joker kept her trapped against his body as he meandered over to the door and flung it open without any worry as to what was on the other side. A few masked clowns were there and Sophie recognised them from the shoot out on the roof.

"Glad to see you're safe, boss." The muffled voice of the clown in front was barely audible.

"Who shot me, Garrett?" There was a change in the Joker's voice; more authority and menace laced into his words. Sophie made a mental note and continued to squirm in his hold that was surprisingly firm despite his injury.

"Peter Voss. We caught him before he managed to get away."

"Wond-er-ful," the Joker cackled, uncaring as to whether or not he woke Sophie's sleeping neighbours. Dragging Sophie with him, the Joker went to the stairwell despite her protests that it would aggravate his injuries. The clowns followed obediently behind him, cocking their heads curiously at the woman the Joker seemed keen to keep with him.

Deciding that the Joker was dragging her along no matter what she did or said, Sophie brooded silently in reflection. What had happened back there? Did he make it a regularity to pounce upon women that were half naked? Red flushed into her cheeks again at the thought. What had gotten into him? Better yet, what had gotten into her to allow it? Was her judgement getting that clouded by infatuation or was there something she hadn't seen yet?

Once on the ground floor, the clowns fanned out in front of the Clown Prince, holding their firearms at the ready in case someone decided to ambush them. Two sedans awaited at the front of the building. Garrett moved to the second sedan and opened the back door, spreading his arm wide. "Ladies first."

The Joker gave her a little shove, forcing her into the car in nothing but her bathrobe. Needless to say the strength sent her reeling across the back seat, landing in an undignified heap, baring her backside and legs to the world. With a colourful shriek, Sophie went red from her hairline right down her neck as the Joker slid in after her. The door slammed shut and Garrett climbed into the driver's side, following the sedan in front.

Sophie sat stiff as board, clutching the bathrobe around her like a lifeline. A leather clad hand settled on her bare knee, giving it a reassuring pat. "Ya got a nice ass there, doll face. No need to be ashamed."

It did nothing to reassure her. In an uncharacteristic movement, Sophie buried her face into the lapels of his jacket, clinging desperately to him in both embarrassment and the overwhelming events of the night before. The Joker's eyebrow almost disappeared into his hairline, while his hands fluttered uncertainly over her, whether to shove her away or hold her close.

It was then that he heard the soft inhale and exhale of her breathing. The darn woman had fallen asleep on him. Rolling his eyes skyward, the Joker grasped her by the shoulders, prepared to move her when his eyes caught sight of the marks on her neck. They were already turning purple and outrageously noticeable, following the delicious curve of her shoulder. Tonguing at his scars, the Joker readjusted Sophie so that her head rested on his shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly around her to keep her secure whilst the car wove through the streets.

This woman had saved his life with absolutely no consideration for her own. As The Joker stared down at the sleeping woman, he had to wonder what he was going to do with her.

* * *

Sophie wasn't partial to falling asleep on anyone.

Ever.

Even worse was the fact that she'd made out with him, quite willingly and had humiliated herself right before his eyes. Rubbing the heels of her palms agitatedly across her forehead, Sophie came to another horrible realisation. He'd probably carried her into this room. And the only reason she was almost positive about that fact was because the Joker deemed her as his property, and he came off as a very possessive character.

This room was neater than the one at the warehouse; the double bed beneath her was surprisingly comfortable and clean, though the sheets were rumpled and unkempt. An old mahogany desk sat just out of reach; blueprints and paperwork scattered over its expanse. As Sophie continued her examination of the room, an en suite bathroom was discovered and even that was clean and well kept.

Glad to still be in her bathrobe yet dreading another encounter with the Joker, Sophie slipped off the bed and padded over to the door, fingers curling around the handle. Low and behold, it was unlocked. Did that mean the Joker trusted her or that she was free to leave? Bemused, she stuck her head out into the hallway. A dead end to the right with a bay window and the left went around a corner.

Upon pulling the curtains back an inch, Sophie let out a gasp. Gotham City was a looming shadow in the distance; it had to be at least an hour away which meant she'd been wrong about the Joker. Letting the curtain fall back, Sophie continued her exploration, wincing as the floorboards creaked under her weight. There were several other doors that would probably lead to other bedrooms but Sophie wasn't keen on finding out who they belonged too. Was this another of the Joker's hiding places?

Voices were soon audible as she rounded another corner and a large sitting room opened out before her with an adjoining kitchen and dining room. Clowns were lounging about on the furniture, playing cards and various other games Sophie couldn't put a name to. Others were watching the flickering television. A cold feeling settled in her gut as she watched the remnants of yesterdays happenings. Hell, the camera had caught her being towed out of the building by the clowns and now Gordon appeared on the screen, leaning heavily on his good leg, a crutch under one arm.

And he was surrounded by reporters.

"Turn it up!" One of the clowns snapped.

"...currently we do not have any information on where the Joker may have taken Miss Havens." The Commissioner spoke into one of the microphones, limping along as the reporters shouted and harassed him with numerous questions. A professional picture of Sophie appeared at the bottom corner of the screen and several of the clowns noticed her presence at that point.

"Commissioner Gordon, is it true Miss Havens aided the Joker after you were injured?" One of the reporters off screen shouted.

Sophie held her breath, conscious of the dozens of eyes on her scantily clad form. "I don't believe so, no." Gordon said nothing more on the matter before looking squarely at the camera. "If anyone does see or come in contact with Sophie Havens please don't hesitate to contact the Gotham Police Department."

Commissioner Gordon walked out of frame, and one of the clowns changed the channel to some description of a soap. Sophie twitched, suddenly self-conscious as one of the clowns leaning against the kitchen bench sauntered over to her.

"The boss said you'd venture out, and that if any of us touch you, he'd kill us." A couple of chuckles echoed his statement. Obviously these men hadn't been with the Joker long enough to know when he was serious.

Gathering what courage and dignity wearing a bathrobe allowed, Sophie stood tall and narrowed her eyes up at the man. "What, you don't think he will?" Her heart was beating a mile a minute, waiting for the flight or fight.

"Christian, back off. The boss doesn't fuck around. He said not to touch her." One of the clowns spoke up from the couch, his skin slowly losing colour at the thought of the Joker discovering his thoroughly raped and abused charge, or was it hostage? Just what was she to the Joker?

"Shut the fuck up, man. If he didn't want us to touch her, he shoulda locked her in the room or taken her with him."

There were a few nodding heads but the majority were made up of displeased and angry looks, though Sophie wasn't sure if any of them would actually bother to defend her. Christian went for her with a hungry look, and she danced out of his reach.

"Leave me alone!"

Running back to the room was pointless. It had no lock on the inside and there wasn't anything to barricade the door with. So, Sophie played cat and mouse with the deranged, hopeful lunatic by running around the furniture that the other clowns occupied. Despite the fact the situation should have frightened Sophie, it slowly turned into amusement. The clowns would lift their legs to allow her to pass and hurriedly put them down when Christian attempted to follow.

Though it soon became clear that the clowns were getting annoyed with the game and were helping less and less. Sophie's heart rose in fear and taking a chance, she dashed to the front door, almost barrelling out onto the front lawn. Dozens of cars were parked neatly in a line across the expanse; with a large forest situated behind them. One dusty road was worn through the trees. The only way in and out by car. Without the Joker present, Sophie panicked and raced as fast as her robe would allow without baring her assets, towards the forest.

Hearing the heavy footfalls of Christian behind her, spurred Sophie on to an even greater pace, hopping over logs and the general debris of a forest. Several times, the robe got caught on a branch or spiky bush and as it happened again, Sophie let the bush have it with a wheezing sob of breath. Now naked, and running through the forest, in the morning, in a place she'd never been to, with a deranged rape-intending man behind her, Sophie begged for a miracle.

* * *

"So you've seen the news, Mr Wayne?"

Lucius Fox smoothed out his suit as he stood from his desk to greet the billionaire with a warm handshake. Bruce returned it with a tight smile before walking abreast with the man as they entered through the bookcase.

"The Joker has got the mob on his side now, Lucius. Three years, I've managed to keep the mask off and now he's back to haunt me."

The Joker was an ever present reminder of Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes. It added salt to the wound now that the clown was prancing through the streets again, and even worse since he had kidnapped a young woman.

"As an self-proclaimed element of chaos, Mr Wayne, the Joker will never stop haunting you...until you kill him."

Fox stopped in front of one of the Tumbler's, another reminder that Bruce definitely needed another one. The bike was convenient but the tank was definitely something he would need against the Joker.

"You know I can't do that, Fox." Bruce's tone and stance was defensive, his hands were hidden deep inside his trouser pockets to hide the curling of his fists.

"No, you can't. But Batman can. Its time you let go of some of those limits, Mr Wayne." When Fox received no response he readjusted his approach. "So what can I do for you?"

Bruce nodded towards the Tumbler with a quirked brow and a light smile. "Does it come in black?"

Lucius Fox gave an answering grin and gave his old friend a light shove on the shoulder. "Just promise me something."

"What?"

Fox's expression lost all humour. "Don't destroy this one."

* * *

Did you like it? :D By the way, for those of you who are following 'An Unlikely Attraction', the update will be up very soon. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**** Sorry it took so long, guys! Been busy with the holidays and whatnot. And I may or may not have been distracted by writing a tenth walker for LOTR...ahem. ANYWAY.**

**Thanks for the reviews, and special thanks once again to ****Lovelorn**** who has been great encouragement for me. :)**

**Disclaimer:**** Dude, seriously, I don't own the movie or any of the characters owned by Warner Brothers. I'd keep the Joker under lock and key if I did.**

* * *

**WARNING: The Joker is crazier in this chapter. Meaning more blood and guts. Pun intended. Consider yourself warned!**

* * *

**Lesser warning: There might be a few errors since I was so hurried to get this up so try and ignore them if you can!**

* * *

Peter Voss had been such an utter disappointment. The man had squealed like a gutted pig once the Joker started using his knife on him but the Clown Prince couldn't help the lack of joy in it. Voss had been the first to not only defy him, but also try to kill him as well. The Joker had expected the pig to fight back; to do something. Anything! Instead the man had cried and begged for his life, right up until the Joker had given the man a bloody Glasgow smile.

To make matters worse the Joker had returned to the cabin to find Sophie gone, having been chased by the notorious rapist, Christian.

Now, irritated, bloodied and just downright pissed off, the Joker played with his weapons, speaking quietly as he did so, "Are any of you fucking capable of following directions?"

Garrett, along with a few others, who had accompanied the Joker, stood as stiff as statues by the far wall. They hardly dared to breathe just in case their boss decided to turn his ire on them next.

The Joker's right hand man was a little concerned for his boss. After all, the man was talking to a room full of dead people. Bodies were strewn throughout the house wherever a fight had taken place; all torn up beyond recognition. Garrett had gunned down a few of the hopeless clowns himself, but the Joker had been all for killing most of them.

"Lighter!" The Joker clicked his fingers impatiently, and one of the clowns hastily threw his own personal one forwards.

The bodies and the majority of the house had already been soaked in gasoline. Now all that was needed was a little...push. Cackling, the Joker watched as the flames licked rapidly at his former clowns before he exited the building.

"Let that be a lesson to you guys, too. If you don't fucking do as you're told," The Joker waggled his finger at them like a teacher scolding a student, "I'll kill ya. Capeesh?"

"Yes, boss!" The four answered.

"Good. Now get a-walkin'. Find them!"

* * *

By late afternoon, the temperature had dropped to a chilly minus five degrees; creating deadly ice slicks on the old roads. The Lamborghini simply slid where the ice wanted it to, before Bruce corrected it with appropriate acceleration and breaking. Having made the arrangement to collect the new Tumbler that night, Bruce was now on his way back to the rebuilt manor.

It was nice not to be surrounded by towering skyscrapers, and paparazzi scoping out his every move. Plus, being in the city was a throwback to what had happened three years ago, and despite his best efforts to put it behind him, it just wasn't possible.

While keeping the Lamborghini at a sedate speed, Bruce enjoyed his cruise through the trees before something white flashed from his peripheral. The tires squealed, screeching against the wet road as Bruce forced the car to a standstill. It slid in the wet before settling just inches from a treacherous trench on the shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" Bruce muttered to himself and stepped out, shoes crunching on the gravel.

A naked woman was curled up in a haphazard sparse area of broken branches. Bruce immediately hastened back to his car and fetched the only thing that would be able to provide some modesty. A fire blanket. It was better than nothing. On hearing the crunch of gravel, the woman raised her head to reveal beautiful, watering storm grey eyes. There were several leaves and twigs scattered throughout her brown locks, and there were bruises beginning to form on the side of her face.

With growing dread and anger, Bruce's eyes followed the pattern of various bruises and abrasions, coming to the quick conclusion the woman had been man-handled. And, judging by the copious amount of blood lining her thighs, she'd either been raped or injured, or perhaps both.

And to make matters worse, Bruce recognised her. Sophie Havens.

Had the Joker done this to her? Had she escaped?

"S-stay away!" Sophie croaked, curling further in on herself to hide the injuries rather than her nakedness.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Bruce said softly, coming forward with slow, sedated steps, holding the fire blanket out to the side with his right hand as he made a pacifying gesture with his left. "I just want to help you."

Sophie became more and more tense the closer he got. Bruce made no attempt to touch her just yet, simply holding the blanket out. "You must be cold. Please, just let me help you, Sophie."

At the mention of her name, the woman was a little more attentive yet still shied away like a frightened animal as he draped the blanket over her form. It barely covered anything but was better than nothing. Bruce pitied her; she was barely out of her teenage years and already subjected to the cruelty of the Joker and the harsh reality of being treated like a piece of meat.

Getting Sophie on her feet was another problem. Whenever his skin touched hers, she would shriek and scream at him not to touch her. Eventually, Bruce did manage to get her up, in an odd way. Though she wouldn't let him touch her, Sophie quietened as he allowed her to use him as a support to get to her feet.

"You need medical attention. My mansion isn't far away."

"I-I...don't..." Sophie shuddered violently, wrapping her arms around herself like a security blanket; the fire blanket falling discreetly from its seat on her shoulders. "He took it..."

Bruce carefully picked the fire blanket up and draped it over her shoulders. "Took what, Sophie?" A choked sob was his only reply. He vied for another approach. "Can you walk to the car? Or do you want me to carry you?"

Although he was Batman, trained and experienced in the arts of fighting crime and saving the innocent, he was still a gentlemen but this was taking consideration too far. This woman needed medical attention as soon as possible, and probably a mental analysis too. Throwing caution to the ground, Bruce carefully but quickly hauled her up into his arms, keeping her tucked securely to his chest so Sophie couldn't bite or hit him without effort.

"It's all right, you're safe." Bruce said softly, despite the fact the woman was screaming very loudly in panic. He deposited her in the passenger side, buckled her in and was in the driver's side before she had a chance to escape. The Lamborghini purred onwards; its velvet rumble now joined with the quiet sniffles of Sophie who had become one with the door.

Despite the fact it was incredibly unlikely that Sophie wished to discuss what happened, Bruce tried again anyway. "Sophie, what happened?"

A stony silence and quiet sniffles were all the billionaire had for a reply. It came as a relief when the turn off for his mansion appeared through the trees. Bruce planted his foot on the accelerator, racing up to the huge building with pure V12 power beneath his foot. Alfred, having heard the monstrous engine, was already waiting on the steps of the entrance, concern marring his aging profile.

"Master Wayne, what-"

"No time to explain, Alfred," Bruce rushed around to the passenger side and swung the door open. Sophie had fallen unconscious, her eyes flickering behind her lids. "Can you get a doctor out here?"

"Of course, sir."

As the Bruce lifted the woman into his arms, Alfred recognised her as the one from the news, albeit a less clothed Sophie Havens. Without another word to his faithful butler, Bruce moved up the steps and into the mansion.

* * *

Bruce paced impatiently outside of one of the many guestrooms in the mansion; this one being directly adjacent to his own. Alfred had demanded to have a quick fill-in of the story so far, and with quick, precise wording Bruce had repeated the entire situation. The butler had then disappeared to prepare a meal for the young woman just in case.

Brisk, professional footsteps echoed from the door when it swung open to reveal the doctor; an aging woman with a no nonsense temperament and a constant stern expression.

"Mr Wayne, I demand to know just what right a businessman has to do such a thing to-"

"I found her on the roadside, Dr. Evans, just as she is now." Bruce deadpanned, anxious to squeeze past her so he could see the Joker's previous captive.

"Be that as it may, Mr Wayne," Dr Evans sniffed with a dignified air, "Why you advise discretion on this matter is beyond my knowledge. However, if my records happen to be examined, I shall not withhold any information concerning this appointment. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Dr Evans. May I enquire as to just what is wrong with her?"

At his genuinely concerned expression, Dr Evans softened her own and sighed. "That woman has been raped, Mr Wayne. Several times, I might add. There are also signs of forced entry through the mouth, which I can only assume to be fellatio. There a several deep incisions on the inside of her thighs. I've given her a light sedative for the pain, and stitched the wounds.

The stitches will dissolve naturally in a couple of days or so. I still strongly advise that you take this woman to the hospital, Mr Wayne. Although the injuries aren't life threatening, they will require constant monitoring and attention should bleeding occur. Not to mention the psychological damage that is possibly present, considering what you told me of her reaction towards you. Other than that, Mr Wayne, I can do no more for her."

Bruce barely managed to keep a straight face during the doctors explanation, staring after her retreating form for minutes after she'd disappeared from view. Burning, white hot rage was sizzling through the very fibre of his being. Whoever had done that to the woman would pay, dearly. He was broken from his angry musings when Alfred moved into his line of sight, face drawn with tight anger.

"Master Wayne, Dr Evans had one more thing to say on her exit."

"Which is what?"

"Miss Havens was...well, sir, as the doctor quoted, 'The hymen was only broken just recently so evidence would suggest this woman was a virgin before that pig got to her'." Alfred could already see the cogs ticking; the tightening of Bruce's form as he turned and strode into the room.

Said girl lay peacefully amongst a sea of soft pillows and white silk sheets. Despite the bruises, her face was slack and serene. Wherever the sedative had taken her, it was certainly far from the horror that had occurred earlier.

"It doesn't make any sense, Alfred," Bruce intoned quietly, desperate to distract himself from the atrocities performed on Sophie. "The Joker doesn't take hostages. It's not his style, nor is raping."

"Perhaps one of his clowns kidnapped her."

"No, the Joker came for her twice. There must be something between them." Bruce's brow furrowed in thought as he began to pace again.

Alfred glanced at the form of the sleeping woman. "Whatever it is, Mr Wayne, I'm sure we can figure it out. But for now, let's contact the Commissioner and see what he has to say on the matter."

Bruce nodded in agreement, giving Sophie another fleeting glance before exiting the room, Alfred close on his heels as the butler gently closed the door.

* * *

Garrett dragged the sorry excuse for a man along the carpet, sneering as Christian sobbed and snivelled, begging for his life. A clown walking just behind kicked the back of his head, quietening him. It had taken them no less than an hour to find the pathetic moron stumbling blindly through the bush, tucking himself back into his pants. There had been blood on his thighs. The sight had told Garret everything he needed to know. A quick car ride later and he was now hauling the idiot through another of the Joker's elusive hideaways.

Said man was sitting on several boxes of ammunition, lazily sharpening one of his favourite knifes. A selection of clowns stood around him, all armed and speaking quietly to each other. Garret all but threw the lesser man in front of him, smirking as Christian fell flat on his face with a muffled cry. The clowns chuckled before the Joker signalled to be silent.

It went deadly quiet, save for the snivelling sobs of Christian. The Joker did not look at the man, and sucked noisily at his scars. The sound disturbed most of the clowns, save for Garrett and a few others that had been with the Joker for a long time. Christian was whimpering like a cowardly dog, and the sour smell of urine became apparent. And then the Joker started to laugh, quietly at first until the cruel sound echoed.

Sliding down the boxes, and landing perfectly on his feet, the Joker gave Christian a vicious kick between his neck and shoulder. Something cracked or broke, if the man's screeching cry was of any indication. A number of the clowns winced but did not look away.

"So...ah...Chrissy...what's _up_?" The Joker smacked his lips and circled the prone form the way a lion hunts a gazelle.

A myriad of excuses and rationalisations came spewing from the man's mouth all at once, only to be silenced by the Joker by another kick, this one to the ribs.

"Tell me...what you did...to Sophie." The Joker's voice had lost all humour and was completely flat, devoid of emotion. Christian raised his head, despite his instincts screaming at him not to; the Joker strived for eye contact. It was all he could do not to disgrace himself further in front of the Clown Prince's eyes.

"I...I raped her." Came the reply.

"And?" The Joker prompted, a deadly tone creeping into his voice. "Tell me _everything_."

Christian swallowed hard, meeting the Joker's eyes whenever the man stopped in his prowling to look at him. "I raped her three times. I used a knife to carve my initials into her thighs but she moved too much so it just looks like a disarray of lines." The man checked the Joker's expression and was nervous to find it blank. The Joker rotated his hand, an incentive to keep talking.

"I-I...I hit her when she kept crying. I don't know how many times I hit her. I couldn't stand her screaming...so...so...I raped her mouth." A cricket chirped and the quick scuffle of feet was all the warning Christian had before a sharp, ripping pain radiated up the back of his calf. He screamed, raggedly as the Joker did the same to his other calf, cackling as his cries grew louder.

Moving around to face the now prostate man, the Joker crouched down in front of him. "Sssshhhh. Now, what happened after that?"

It took several attempts for Christian to answer and when he did it was barely audible. "D-don't know. I left her on the road side and started going back to the cabin."

The Joker looked around at Garrett with raised brows. The man hastily said, "No one was by the road, boss. There was blood on the ground, and tire marks further up the road. Someone picked her up."

Grabbing Christian by the jaw, he slid the knife between the man's teeth, ignoring his protests. The blood stained blade always made the man retch but the Joker didn't allow it, holding his mouth closed and making him swallow the contents of his stomach.

"You wanna know how I got these scars?" The Joker grinned, the scars pulling taught beneath the red paint. Christian began to shake his head before the knife cut the inside of his mouth. He whimpered deliriously, the blood loss from his legs making him dizzy.

"One day, I met a guy. We were great friends for about a week until he went _crazy_. It was all the rave, back then, oh yes. He did it to all his friends." The Joker bared his teeth. "So he goes and does this to me, sayin' that I was a freak now too." Gripping the man's jaw tighter, the Joker all but snarled in his face. "I hate that word." And then his expression changed again, the anger gone from his face. "So answer one more question for me, Chrissy. Was Sophie a virgin?"

Christian tightened his jaw, teeth clamping down on the metal of the knife in vain hopes of stopping it from sliding any further. The Joker was waiting with raised brows. A tight nod was the only reply he received. Humming thoughtfully, the Joker carefully removed the knife and gave the man a pat on the head before standing. "Good boy. That's everything I needed to know."

Rising up with a grimace, Christian managed to roll onto his back, thanking whatever God out there that the Joker hadn't killed him. "Thank you, boss. Could I get some bandages for my-"

"Bandages?" The Joker loomed above him, a dark grin tugging at his lips. "Whatcha need those for?"

Christian's blood curdling scream ricocheted about the room as the Joker drove the knife straight into his crotch before dragging it with practised efficiency just beneath his ribcage. Garrett managed to keep a hold of his stomach as Christian's entrails spilled out onto the floor, giving off a potent odour that the Joker ignored. The man gave one sobbing breath before going still.

He was dead.

Avoiding the mix of intestines and a variety of other organs, the Joker wiped his knife clean on the man's shirt before fluttering his hands at the body. "Someone get rid of that." When no volunteers were forthcoming, the Joker all but roared, "NOW!"

Two masked clowns jumped forward and dragged the body away while another went to get equipment that could clean up the remaining mess. Dusting off his hands and returning the now clean knife to his jacket pocket, the Joker gave his followers a wide smile that spoke volumes.

"So, now that that is all fine and dandy. Charles, what tyre prints were left on the roadside, hmm?" The Joker strutted over to one of the four he had assigned to fetch Christian.

"Not sure, boss, they're a custom tread. Not listed on the general market." Charles said nervously, knowing ignorance irritated the Joker.

"Well you better fucking _find_ it or you're going to join _that_." The Joker tossed his head toward the pile of steaming organs and urine. Charles took off as quickly as he could, muttering a meek acknowledgement. Several of the others looked as though they'd like to dash away as fast as possible too. "The rest of you, I want that girl found. Alive."

"What about the person that took her, boss?" Garrett asked, ready to obey the whims of the Joker, even if it could mean his life.

The Joker licked at his lips and cocked an brow speculatively. "Kill 'em."

* * *

Sophie groaned, blinking several times to clear her vision of bleariness. Where on earth was she? The room was elaborate and well furnished, as was the bed she rested in. What had happened? A gasp tore from her throat when she realised the Joker definitely wasn't here. Which meant...

Images, sensations and sounds filled the expanse of her brain, reliving it all over again. Crawling to the edge of the bed, Sophie vomited violently, the taste of the man still lingered within the recesses of her mouth. It was all her mind could see. A foul, male body thrusting himself into her mouth, hands clutching her skull so she couldn't escape. Perspiration glittered on every inch of her skin as her stomach heaved again.

Wiping at her mouth, Sophie gingerly looked beneath the sheets and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. There was dried blood from when Christian had penetrated her but also from the knife wounds he'd given her. Harming herself from depression had been completely different to what he'd done to her. He'd enjoyed trying to slice his initials into her skin. Sophie's lips trembled as the one realisation kept repeating itself over and over again inside her head.

He'd taken it.

What she'd been saving for the right man, he'd taken without a care for thought. Relinquishing a sob, Sophie dumped herself unceremoniously onto the floor, all but crawling towards the porcelain tiles she could see through a doorway. What felt like hours were only minutes when she finally managed to crawl into the shower. The water beat down hard on her back, covering the sounds of her distraught, pained cries.

Despite her distress, Sophie had found a new toothbrush and toothpaste and was cleaning any remnants of what remained from that man. It wasn't until she tasted blood in her mouth that she deemed it to be enough, but the feeling was still there. Sophie screamed, beating her fists on the shower walls in attempt to rid herself of the images and sensations still tingling on her person.

"Joker...where are you...JOKER!" She screamed and her tears began anew. The Joker had been more of an influence on her life then she first realised. Of all the people she'd met in her lifetime, he had shown that he cared. Why hadn't he rescued her? Why had he left her alone in a cabin full of murders, rapists and criminals?

Bruce had come racing up the stairs upon hearing the woman screaming, bursting into her room until he saw the mist seeping through the open door to the bathroom. Breathing a deep sigh, the billionaire ventured closer, not wanting to intrude but needing to find out whether she was ok and not drowning herself. By peering slightly around the door, he could dimly see her reflection in the mirror. The pale expanse of her back was all he could see but the harsh rise and fall of her shoulders told him she was definitely alive. Perhaps not well, but alive.

Taking a step back, Bruce cleared his throat and heard something hit the shower fall. It sounded like a toothbrush. "Miss Havens? Are you all right in there?"

A sob was his answer and then a quiet, "No."

Bruce waited for further explanation but when it wasn't forthcoming he ventured for another try. "Can you manage getting out on your own?"

More silence greeted him, save for the water pounding against glass and porcelain tiles. Sophie rubbed despairingly at her arms; most of her skin was raw and almost bloodied from scrubbing herself so hard. Logic had been the only thing stopped her from doing the same thing to the crude initials on her thighs. It had taken her enough energy to get across the room. Was it possible to get back? Bruce Wayne had indirectly saved her life, and for that she owed him some degree of gratitude. "I don't think so. Could you help me...please?"

The thought of him seeing her naked didn't sit well, neither did the idea of him touching her again. It would only encourage her to relive everything again but if it was for her own well being, she had to deal with it. Bruce's answer came from his tall, muscled form stepping into the bathroom. Not that she could clearly recall the suit he'd been wearing before when he'd rescued her, but she was certain he'd put a new one on since then.

Bruce did not look at her, forcing himself to restrain baser desires as he fetched a clean towel from the bathroom cupboard. Carefully keeping his gaze over her head, he held the towel at arm's length. Sophie's heart thudded hyperactively at the thought of a man being so close to her, but she pushed it aside and by using the wall as support, got to her feet. After a few tries of turning the water off, she succeeded and stepped warily into the towel, grateful that Bruce was attentive enough that his skin did not brush hers at all.

"Thank you," She said so softly he strained to hear her.

"It's no trouble-"

"No," Sophie reached out and gripped the cuff of his suit. Bruce's rage hitched up a notch at the vulnerable, broken look in her grey eyes. "I mean, thank you. F-for saving me. I may be dead if you hadn't come along when you did."

Batman had been thanked a dozen times. Bruce however, had acted the spoilt rich boy so well that he hardly ever heard the words leave a person's lips. A ghost of a smile pulled at his mouth. "You're very welcome, Miss Havens. I'm glad you're safe."

"Please, Mr Wayne. Call me Sophie."

Bruce extended his arm in a flourish in the direction of the bedroom, until he saw her stagger and gently but quickly secured his arm around her back. Sophie's reaction was visible and clearly felt against his body as she tensed like a board. "I'm just helping you, Sophie. I'm not going to hurt you."

"S-sorry, Mr Wayne."

"No," Bruce said vehemently, his brows coming down. "You have no reason to be sorry. And call me Bruce."

A watery smile was his answer as he led her back to the bed. The sheets were bloodstained and filthy, so Bruce set her on the edge of the bed and bid her to sit there for a moment. Sophie waited patiently, patting at her skin with the towel without revealing her body too much. Her vision blurred and wavered, making her sway a little. Once again her stomach revolted against her but there was nothing to release save saliva, and dry heaving.

Bruce returned with a wheelchair he'd borrowed for keeping her within his household, to see her doubled over in pain, the towel almost falling off of her. "Sophie!" He rushed over to the wardrobe and tugged down a blanket from the top shelf. The woman was almost delirious, eyes wandering unfocused about the room. Bruce used the opportunity to gently towel her body dry before wrapping her pliant body securely in the blanket. Without wasting a moment, he placed her in the wheelchair and squatted to see her face. Placing his hands on her cheeks he said, "Sophie, can you hear me? I need you to calm down and breathe."

Sophie blinked blearily and shrieked when Bruce's face appeared directly in front of hers; his hands gentle but firm against her cheeks. He was speaking to her, but it took a few moments for her scattered brain to collect what they were. "Calm down. Breathe," Bruce imitated slow, even breathes through the nose and out through the mouth. Sophie copied him without even realising it, her eyes never leaving his as her heart rate levelled out and her stomach no longer turned upside down.

"Are you cold?" Bruce said softly, frowning as the tips of his fingers brushed against her damp hair. Sophie nodded jerkily, almost lulled to sleep by his soft, gravelly voice. "No, Sophie. You have to stay awake. How about some food? Or something to drink."

The thought of food made her want to grimace and she opted for the drink, already knowing that Bruce was the type of man who wouldn't give up. With a tight smile, Bruce rose from his crouch and wheeled her from the room. The fact that he had to abandon the wheelchair to get her down the stairs was problematic but doable. Once again, the woman was in his arms as he carried her through the immense hallway towards the kitchen.

Alfred was already there, preparing a dish that looked absolutely mouth-watering by the eye, but Sophie's stomach was still adamant at consuming anything solid. After three glasses of apple juice to raise her sugar levels and a glass of water, Sophie was feeling a little better. Alfred was regaling her with wild tales of the mischief Bruce got up to when he was younger, always exploring or getting himself into trouble.

"H-how long was I out for?" Sophie sat on comfortable plush chair that had been brought in from the dining room, despite her continuous protests. Bruce wouldn't hear a word of them. Said billionaire had excused himself momentarily; to do what, Sophie had no clue.

"Master Wayne brought you here on Tuesday afternoon, and it's now Wednesday. So you've been out for a good twenty-four hours or so, Miss Havens." Alfred's tone became very grandfatherly. "If you need to speak of what happened, I'm more than happy to listen."

"I appreciate the offer, Alfred, but the memories are too fresh. If I think or speak of them...I'll relive it," she whispered mostly to herself, eyes wide with dread.

Hastily changed the subject, Alfred made a few pointing gestures at the food he had prepared by slowly nudging it in her direction across the counter. The sight and the expression on his face made a laugh bubble from her throat unexpectedly. It surprised both of them before Alfred started laughing and she joined in, feeling as though a little of the weight had been lifted.

By the time seven rolled around, Sophie felt capable of having more to eat, having only nibbled sparingly on the delicious food Alfred had prepared hours earlier. Sitting at the elaborate dining table, dressed in comfortable pants and a jumper, Sophie tucked in to the generous helping of roast lamb and vegetables. The fact that she was seated at Bruce Wayne's table, in his mansion would have made her blanch on a normal day.

But the man had saved her life. Bruce wasn't just a well-known celebrity to her now. He was her friend; and this was his mansion. As lavish as it was, Sophie would never harp on about it the way some reporters do; they just didn't know the man. And technically, neither did Sophie. But, she was resolved to learn a thing or two about him until she was well enough to leave. Bruce had been quite insistent on her remaining in his mansion until she was completely healed, both mentally and physically.

Several times Sophie had tried to protest, saying it was too much trouble but Bruce hadn't budged and Alfred had also voiced his opinion that she should stay. For her physical health, it was deemed an excellent idea not to go back home. But as for the mental side of things, Sophie wasn't capable of sorting herself out even though she was a psychiatrist. And that could take months. Did Bruce even understand that fact? To make matters worse, Bruce had informed her that he'd hired a psychiatrist and that they were arriving in the morning.

A psychiatrist before reviewed by another psychiatrist. It was the first handful of bland humour she had shown the two men. It lightened the air and made the rest of the night a peaceful interlude to what happened the previous evening.

* * *

Arkham Asylum was still in disarray, lacking security on a number of levels and insufficient staff to scout the whole building. One person in particular had gained an errant strand of wire and was working quietly to bust the lock to their cell.

The lock clicked with finality and the cell door swung open and out stepped Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel.

"Get ready, Joker. I'm comin' for you." The woman purred and sauntered down the isle of cells, oblivious to the various catcalls and demands to be set loose, continuing towards the exit door with a high, ringing cackle.

* * *

***grins* I know, you hate me 'cause I have horrible cliff hangers. I was really proud of this chapter. I think I brought out Sophie's emotions the way it would normally happen if that occured in real life. Plus, I think I did ok with Bruce's reaction and personality but tell me if I didn't! Lend me your thoughts, my faithful readers!**


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